Voyage through the Ages
by Peace in Twilight
Summary: A powerful sorcerer attempts to conquer Narnia by erasing its past. The Pevensies and Caspian must defeat the evil and save Narnia...with the unexpected help from a special little boy.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia. If I did… xD  
**_**Voyage through the Ages **_**is rated "T" for violence and mild language use.**

* * *

_**Voyage through the Ages  
**__A Chronicles of Narnia Fanfiction_

_Prologue_

There was something so appealing about fresh snow.

The young boy could sit there all day and watch the snowflakes fall gently; creating a soft layer of white that blanketed the London suburbs. With all this new ammo, he'd surely challenge his little brother to a (perhaps a bit one-sided) snowball fight the following morning. Maybe he'd make a snowman, although his sister would absolutely insist on it being a snow_woman_, taking off the plain buttons and putting on sparkly stars. Or maybe he'd make snow angels. Maybe the best thing to do tomorrow was lie in the snow and watch the clouds. Yes, that sounded like a good plan.

Inside, in the warmth from the various fireplaces and the soothing smell from dinner roasting away in the oven, the family was bustling. About every five minutes the youth would hear cries or whines from his younger siblings, pestering his parents to do who-knows-what and who-knows-when. In order to give his mother somewhat of a break, he sat at the window, watching away. No one would miss him.

The boy breathed on the glass plane, grinning as he drew a girl with his finger in the condensation. He gave her a big mouth, drawing squinty eyebrows to boot. He'd of course, have to wipe it away before his Mum saw, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

His father stormed past, yelling something about dirty diapers and little toddlers who tried to play with their poop.

Yep, that sure sounded like his brother.

His mother, sounding flustered and frazzled, responded that he was out of luck and had to change the baby's diaper himself because certain little girls needed an audience for their fashion show, and oh by the way, don't get her started with the baby.

Yep, and that sounded like his sisters.

Every day was like this. Everything was about the younger children. So, he sat, in his room, alone. Eventually his parents would come in, apologize to him for being so busy, give him a quick peck on the cheek, and then proceed to care for the younger children again. He couldn't blame them. It wasn't their fault, and they weren't trying to ignore him, it's just what happened. Sometimes, he'd come home from school, and his mother would drag him on shopping trips for hours because he was the only one that actually behaved in public. Then she'd send him on basic tasks. If he tried to protest, she'd nearly break down and plead with him how she couldn't do it all alone.

He hated being the oldest.

The only time it was rewarding was when he pelted his two-year-old brother with an endless barrage of snowballs.

Revenge was oh-so-sweet.

_I just wanna be anywhere but here._

_**Do you, my child?**_

The boy jerked out of his reverie, bright blue eyes wide. What was that? Did he hear something? Was he officially losing it?

"Mummy?" He asked quietly, although there was no way his mother could hear him—not like she'd come, anyways.

_**Do you want to go somewhere else? Some place where you are important?**_

The youth couldn't help but nod before he could stop himself. Beside him, on his dusty old nightstand, lay his beloved old teddy bear that his Daddy came home with one day. He instinctively reached for it, ignoring his Mummy's nagging that big boys didn't carry around stuffed animals.

"Who are you?"

A baseless question and he knew it. It just was so instinctive.

_**I'm right here, child. **_

"Teddy?" He asked incredulously, observing Teddy up and down frantically. Yes. He was talking to his teddy bear. He made a mental note to never tell his parents about this, because they'd probably ship him off to some correcting institution faster than he could rationalize it.

_**Do you?**_

Either Teddy's eyes were blinking, or the child drank a little too much hot cocoa.

Maybe he really was losing it.

"I want…I want Mummy and Daddy to play with me," he responded innocently.

_**I can promise you more than that. If you come with me, you can be the greatest king in history.**_

"King?" The lad didn't want that. He wasn't a leader. He was just…a little boy. All he wanted was his parents to spend a day caring for him, not his siblings. "I…I don't want…"

Admittedly, being a king would be a sweet gig. Maybe then he could make a proclamation that would make it socially acceptable for boys to carry around teddy bears. Oooh, he'd also insist on having a strict diet of chocolate.

"Maybe," he finally confessed sheepishly. "Being a king would be pretty nice."

_**So you have wished it, so it will be.**_

"What?" He cried aloud. Suddenly, a strange dizziness swept over him. He collapsed from the strain, desperately flailing about, trying to grab something concrete that would brace his fall. His room, normally a putrid, musky—yet somehow comforting—wood, rapidly transitioned into a deep pit of black.

"Mummy!" He screamed.

In the distant hallway, his mother bustled by, not noticing anything amiss.

His world went black.

* * *

**A/N**

**The moment when you write completely the opposite of what you originally intended. Oh well, it works. It shouldn't be a secret who the little boy is, but what's happened to him?**

**Please leave a review! It would greatly make my day. :)**

**I hope you enjoyed the story and I'll see you in the first chapter! (This won't be posted until the first chapter's done, so it's like…nevermind. xD)**


	2. Unexpected Reality

**This is intended to be during the time period of **_**Voyage of the Dawn Treader**_, **but I'm going to up all of their ages by two years, because otherwise they're just so…young. xD Except Caspian. I think his age is the same. They are as followed:**

**Peter: 17, Susan: 16, Edmund: 14, and Lucy: 12, Caspian: 18, and Eustace: 11. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia. If I did…one of these times I'm going to mess up and write "I don't own the Legend of Zelda" and never notice it. xD  
**_**Voyage through the Ages **_**is rated "T" for violence and mild language.**

* * *

_Unexpected Reality_

There was something so _disgusting_ about fresh snow.

Peter Pevensie didn't always used to hate it. He kind of got mixed up with a witch who loved a hundred year winter, and well, snow didn't seem so lovely after that. Outside his window, a snowflake scraggly fell down to the ground, disintegrating pathetically the moment it touched one blade of grass. This time of year was so awkward. It was still above freezing, so instead of a nice blanket of snow, they were left with slush.

Susan was privileged enough to go to America with his parents, Lucy and Edmund went to stay at their Aunt (how he pitied them) and here he was, stuck here. He was originally going to go to America, that is, until his father discovered his math grades (X+Y=…B?) and sent him to study with Professor Kirke. So he sucked at math. Big deal.

He didn't mind studying with the professor, no, he actually enjoyed it, but here he was, out in the middle of nowhere with no one but an old man and a cranky maid to keep him company. As much fun as it was talking with said old man and pulling pranks on the cranky maid was always entertaining, all and all it was quite lonely.

Peter missed his family.

…don't tell them that he said that, though.

He sighed heavily, giving up on his arithmetic (or perhaps it was geometry?) and allowed himself to take a little break. Thank goodness the cranky maid wasn't around, because she would probably slap him on his wrists for slacking. Peter instinctively winced, rubbing his sore wrists. That had to be child abuse or something.

He tried not to think of Narnia—look what happened to him last time he let Narnia get to his head…dark times indeed—and instead focused on happy memories from his childhood. Like his teddy bear.

That's mature, a seventeen year old boy thinking of a teddy bear. Hey, it brought him comfort when he was a boy. Sometimes, he could swear the bear actually understood him. He vaguely recalled having a conversation with it once.

…not like he was ever going to mention that to his parents. Seriously, though, if there could be a magical land in a wardrobe, than talking teddy bears were completely plausible.

Peter lazily pulled himself up, rummaging through his trunk and pulling out his mangled, dusty old bear that was missing one eye—that was courtesy of Edmund—and had the stuffing half ripped out.

"You get me, right?"

Peter fondly brushed off some dust specks, trying to cram the wispy stuffing back into the rip. If he had any sewing skills whatsoever, he would have already fixed it by now. However, dangerous things happened when he held a needle, usually resulting in bloody fingers. He was also a wee bit too embarrassed to ask his Mum or his sister to fix his pwecious teddy beary for him.

Peter hugged the bear to his chest. No one was looking.

…if they did, they better not be taking any photographs.

_**Do you want to go somewhere else?**_

Yes, he did. Was that so wrong?

Wait a minute. It was just like that day. He recalled it so vaguely—who remembers what happens twelve years ago—but he was talking to his teddy bear and suddenly…

His world became black once again.

* * *

Ugh, it stunk. And he wasn't referring to the "musky" aroma of too much "classic" perfume. Edmund was really concerned about his aunt. Seemed like she needed to get her nose checked.

If one _could_ get their nose checked.

Edmund opened his eyes to see the underside of a stinky, obviously unwashed foot. Great. Eustace fell off his bed again. And when Eustace fell off his bed, that meant Edmund got a face full of feet.

"Gross, get off me, Eustace…" Edmund grumbled, shoving off his preteen cousin who was happily snoring away, drooling over his pillow and sucking on this thumb. What a baby. Here he was, eleven years old and still needing a bedtime story to go to bed. Of course, his idea of a "story" was the latest encyclopedia article about whatever insect that did something nasty and unsubstantial.

_Please tell me I wasn't this bad when I was his age._

Sure, he went through an, um, _rebellious _phase. He might have turned in his family for sweets. Yeah. That was an honest mistake. Besides, he was a much better person now. Better to let bygones be bygones. Still, Edmund liked to blame it more on the awkward age than on true character. Maybe that meant that Eustace would eventually become tolerable.

Edmund highly doubted that.

Uncle yelled something to his sister Lucy about wanting breakfast. Edmund grumbled, hastily throwing on clothes. When did Lucy become a maid?

On that note, when did Lucy grow up? She was twelve now and more mature than ever. Edmund could remember when she needed permission or assistance with everything. Now she was taking the initiative.

It was weird. It made him feel old, too.

"I'll help, Lu," he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and promptly ramming right into his sister.

"You're not awake, silly," she giggled, fully dressed and ready for the day. "You're wearing your sleep shirt and your school trousers."

"This is the new fashion," Edmund insisted as if he did it intentionally. So it took him at least an hour to fully wake up in the morning. Sue him.

"Would you two be quiet? Eustace moaned. "Some of us are trying to sleep here."

Edmund wanted to punch him, to tell him to quit falling off his bed and actually let him sleep for once, but Lucy restrained him, shaking her head. 'It's not worth it,' she mouthed. Edmund sighed. He now understood why Peter punched him in the face that one time when they were younger.

"Edmund," Lucy whispered softly into his ear. "You've got to check out this picture Aunt hung up in my bedroom. It looks so Narnian."

Narnia. There was something that always made Edmund and Lucy smile. It was always a hope that they'd one day return. At least, Peter thought they would. Yeah, it was kinda sad that Peter and Susan wouldn't be joining them anymore, but that's because they were old. You could almost see Peter's white hairs and Susan's wrinkles.

He would be dead if he ever told them that.

Also, Edmund was admittedly a wee bit happy to go without Peter. Peter was the High King and the oh-so-_important _one. Everything was about the glorious, magnificent, spectacular, benign High King and, oh, yeah, there were others too. Maybe now Edmund could call himself the High King. He giggled, blushing a bit at the thought of everyone praising him like that.

"What are you thinking about now…?" Lucy asked suspiciously, raising her eyebrow at him. "You aren't thinking about ten thousand ways to smash Eustace's face in, are you?"

No, but he thanked Lucy for the great idea. He'd have fun with those daydreams in school later.

"Actually, I was thinking about Narnia," he whispered, but not softly enough as Eustace huffed, brimming with gloat and self-righteousness.

"Narnia is a bunch of hog's wallop, if you ask me. Talking whatsits and playing pretend. You'll all be worthless in a few years. Stuck cleaning toilets or stuffed in a nuthouse for your ridiculous games."

Edmund had a few choice words for him, but Lucy again restrained him and shook his head. She was right, of course, the last thing he wanted to do was massage his Aunt's decaying soles, his last punishment for smacking Eustace in the kisser. Eustace would never understand. He had no imagination, no creativity, no…nothing.

"No one asked you," Lucy finally said quietly, dragging Edmund into her room. For once, Edmund would have killed to be a girl. Then he could room with her instead of Mister Head-Up-His-Ass. He considered up in drag and scarring his aunt and uncle so much that they had to put him in Lucy's room.

"Look at it," she smiled, leading Edmund over to the painting.

It was certainly magnificent. In the middle of some high, thundering waves, a proud ship sailed through the turbulent waters. A normal person would think it was something out of the Renaissance. Edmund and Lucy knew better. That was a Narnian ship.

"What is this piece of rubbish?"

Okay, someone better clock Eustace in the face or Edmund was going to lose his temper and would be stuck washing the floors. Even Lucy didn't try to restrain him this time. Edmund stormed up to Eustace, getting in his puny, piggy face when he suddenly was splashed with water.

Edmund turned around to yell at Lucy for her unorthodox methods, when he noticed she was soaked too. What just happened? A leak? No, that's odd, it wasn't raining. Without any warning, the door slammed, Eustace clinging onto Lucy's bedpost for safety, muttering a string of nonsensical words.

The painting. The water was coming from the _painting_.

"Lucy!" Edmund cried exuberantly, his sister beaming from ear to ear.

They were going to Narnia.

* * *

Edmund swam upwards through the clear, sparkling water, trying not to accidentally swallow any of the saltwater. He pulled Lucy up, not really caring that Eustace was flailing around like a chicken with his head cut off. Who invited him to Narnia, anyways? Edmund sure didn't.

"_Now see what it's like to have a brat for a kid brother."_

He could almost hear Peter's mocking voice now.

Edmund gasped for breath as he surfaced, taking a protective glance backwards to ensure Lucy was alright. She was, grinning. Eustace surfaced sometime later, hacking up salt and grumbling incoherently. Edmund caught the words "utter nonsense" and "magic trick".

"We're going to drown!" Eustace wailed, glugging water, still flailing around. With a sigh, Edmund made his way over to him, trying to get him to stay afloat.

"Keep still, I'm trying to help you," Edmund grimaced as Eustace nailed him in the _sensitive _area with his random kicking.

"We don't have to swim far," Lucy said. "Look, there's an island right there."

Oh. Edmund turned around. They were only a few feet off the shore. It was amazing that they weren't actually standing up. The magnificent ship, once stationary in the picture, was now animated, docked at a nearby pier.

"What do you think is happening now?" Lucy asked.

Edmund shrugged. Who knew how much time had passed. It could be anything from a year to a thousand years. If he had to guess, they were in the Lone Islands, islands east of Narnia that were technically under Narnian rule. Well, that was when they ruled Narnia in the Golden Age. Who knew what it was now. Still, Edmund didn't sense any danger and motioned for Lucy to swim towards shore. He dragged his cousin with him, although Eustace was having none of it. What, did he want to drown or something? Well…

"Keep pulling him," Lucy warned, as if she could read Edmund's mind.

Sigh. Well there went that brilliant idea.

The three made their way to the island, pulling themselves up on the sandy banks. There was a nearby coastal village that seemed peaceful enough. Eustace was complaining about something, but Edmund chose to ignore him. It was better for his mood this way.

"Lucy," Edmund said quietly.

Lucy nodded. At first the village seemed peaceful, but it was apparent that a battle had just occurred. Blood stained the sandy paths of the village. There was a foul odor of burning and torn flesh. The villagers were dragging away bodies. From their clothing, Edmund could only guess that they were bandits, perhaps even slave traders. This area was constantly under threat from Calormen slave traders. A meek, seemingly frail woman acknowledged the outsiders with a nod, struggling under the weight of a cauldron stuffed with gold and various trinkets.

"Place the bodies of the invaders on the cart," a strong, authoritative voice ordered. "We'll see to it that they are buried. Scum or not, every human deserves respect."

Edmund knew that voice.

"Caspian!" Lucy cried, running over to the young king and bringing him into a bear hug.

That meant not too much time had passed since their last visit. Caspian looked older, complete with a mustache and beard. Edmund had to chuckle. It didn't suit him at all. Though, it did make him seem manlier. Before he was flirting with a rather feminine appearance. Since Caspian was old enough to grow facial hair, Edmund estimated that the young monarch was around the age of eighteen, implying that about three years had passed.

"Edmund! Lucy!" Caspian exclaimed, obviously pleased to see them both. "It's always a wonder to see you." He looked at Eustace, who was hiding behind a hut with his nose buried into his handkerchief. Poor sap must not appreciate the delicate aroma of sweat that much.

"And who's he?" Caspian asked in a low voice to Lucy.

"Eustace," she replied somewhat regretfully. "He's our cousin."

"You're related?" Caspian wondered incredulously, watching Eustace accidentally ram right into an unsuspecting villager. Eustace babbled who-knows-what. Edmund certainly wasn't paying attention to the details.

"Unfortunately," Edmund said. "How are you doing? What's the problem?"

"Problem?" Caspian responded, befuddled. "Well, to be quite honest, as happy as I am to see you, I don't know quite why you're here."

"You didn't call us?" Lucy asked. Last time, Caspian, then a prince on the run for his life, blew Susan's horn and called the Pevensies to help him reclaim his throne.

Caspian shook his head. "Narnia is in a state of peace," he said. "We had a minor outbreak of skirmishes shortly after you left, but I was able to handle those on my own. Narnia is currently in the hands of some very capable advisers while I…tend to personal business."

Edmund didn't want to pry and the king certainly didn't want to tell, so he left it at that. Lucy followed suit. Eustace, however…

"So what are you doing? Seems pretty irresponsible for a so-called 'king' to be away from his country."

Somebody teach that punk a lesson in diplomacy. Lucy only sighed. Edmund groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, a nervous tick he picked up.

"The Lone Islands are part of his territory," Edmund snarled. "Besides, you may not be able to comprehend this, but sometimes the king actually has to get off of his throne to accurately defend his country."

"It's okay," Caspian said, waving his arms in attempt to diffuse the growing tension. "He makes a valid point. On my personal travel, I heard rumors about the Lone Islands being run by slave traders again. I thought I'd help out on the way."

"So this is your doing?" Edmund asked, motioning to the remains of the battle.

Caspian shook his head. "Actually, no. We docked only about an hour ago. The fight had already ended. The villagers were telling me about these two warriors that came in and single handedly wiped out an entire band of bandits. Naturally, I wish to personally thank these heroes. They shouldn't be too far away."

Edmund knelt next to a corpse. Hmm, there were a couple of sword slashes, but what really caught his attention was an arrow. Edmund yanked the arrow out of the corpse. A direct, precise hit to the heart. Whoever took the shot was an extremely talented archer.

"Looks like a swordsman and an archer," Lucy smartly deduced. Edmund shook his head in disbelief. Sure, Lucy fought her fair share of battles during her time as queen, but still, hearing her talk about battle was just plain _weird_.

"And how do you know all this?" Eustace asked. "Why would you want to know something so vile?"

Edmund grinned. It was time for the brat to finally show some respect. "We're royalty here," he said ever-so-slowly. It felt good to gloat. Just this once.

"Preposterous," Eustace huffed.

"Actually," Caspian interjected. "He's correct. Friends," he called, as his personal envoy gathered around their king. "Let me introduce King Edmund and Queen Lucy. Please show them the same respect you would show me."

"_Preposterous_," Eustace repeated, mouth agape.

"Milady," Reepicheep, an old friend of the Pevensie,s bowed low before Lucy.

The youthful queen giggled, curtsying. "Sir Reepicheep."

"He's a mouse," Eustace wailed. "The mouse is talking."

Reepicheep sighed. "Why does everyone say that?"

Edmund laughed. It really did feel great to be back in Narnia, and the fact that Eustace was clearly suffering was an added bonus. Edmund felt happier than he had been in weeks. Lucy was happy, too.

"My lord," A satyr said, bowing to Caspian. "There are reports that two unfamiliar humans were taking refuge in a nearby cave. I believe these are the warriors we're searching for."

Caspian nodded. "Let's go," he said. "Edmund, will you come with us?"

"Of course." Anything to get out of this town and preferably away from Eustace.

"Lucy, would you mind staying behind and watching…um…him?" Caspian motioned to Eustace, who was running back and forth between various Narnian creatures, believing that somehow they were actually men in animal suits.

"I'll keep an eye on him." Lucy wasn't exactly thrilled, not that Edmund blamed her.

Finally. Maybe he'd get some peace and quiet.

* * *

What kind of a place was this?

Edmund and Caspian wandered through a winding cave, with rats to boot. Throughout their travels, Caspian and Edmund exchanged the guys' version of small talk. What were they up to, what girls they thought were hot…

Caspian, apparently, still wasn't over Edmund's sister Susan.

It was admittedly kind of creepy.

"I don't trust that woman. Look at the place she led us! It's filthy! And besides, shouldn't we be doing something about your arm?"

Edmund knew that voice. He knew that voice very well. He just…wasn't expecting to hear that voice _here_.

"Susan?" Caspian asked, eyes wide open from shock. "I realize I've heard her voice in my dreams before, but…is she really here?"

"You're not going nuts," Edmund said. "Unless I am too. I heard her." He raised cupped his hands around his mouth. "Susan!" He called.

Susan appeared within seconds, bow raised. "Edmund? Caspian? What are you doing here?"

"What are we doing here?" Edmund replied. "What are _you _doing here!?"

Caspian was at a loss for words. Edmund didn't blame the guy. Caspian fell in love with a woman that couldn't live in his world or his time. She was never supposed to return, and yet here she was. Edmund was happy to see his sister, although he really wasn't looking forward to her incessant nagging.

Wait, if Susan was here, then it was entirely plausible that…

"Peter?" Edmund called. Sure enough, his older brother appeared, sword drawn.

"Edmund?" Peter asked in disbelief.

Okay, Edmund was officially royally confused. What the heck were Peter and Susan doing here? If he remembered correctly, they had a long, drawn-out mushy farewell. They weren't supposed to return. Aslan had a nice intimate chat with them.

So why were they here?

"Caspian," Susan blushed, fixing her hair.

Oh, heck no. Edmund wasn't going to sit through this love affair. He turned his attention to Peter. Susan probably wouldn't be thinking rationally anytime soon.

"So I take it the work back at the village was your doing?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I was studying and I suddenly found myself in the middle of some random house. I figured I was transported to Narnia, so I went outside and found some goons picking on a girl. During the fight, I heard Susan's voice, tossed her a bow, and we cleaned up the mess."

"You have no idea how you got here?" Yep. Definitely strange.

Peter shook his head. "It's the same for Susan. It happened completely randomly. All I know is that it's weird. We're not supposed to be here, and yet, here we are."

Edmund sighed, trying to process the situation. A couple of hours ago, he was in England arguing with his deadbeat of a cousin. Now he was in Narnia with his siblings, in a supposed time of peace. It was too much. Edmund recalled Susan saying something about an arm…

Come to think of it, a loose cloth was hastily wrapped around Peter's arm, stained a light crimson. Edmund didn't remember seeing any blood spatter in the caves, but maybe he just missed it. It was pretty dark in here. Edmund instinctively grabbed Peter's arm, attempting to discern the severity of the injury. His elder brother had a deep gash from his left elbow to the tip of his index finger.

Edmund whistled. Yikes. "Ouch, Pete. How did you manage this? Sword skills a little rusty?"

Okay, maybe it was slightly inappropriate timing, but Edmund couldn't resist a little dig.

Susan, who was in la-la land up until that point, cut in. "No, it's completely random," she said. "We were just walking when suddenly he cried out in pain. He wasn't injured in the battle, and I know nothing touched him in the caves."

"A phantom wound?" Caspian asked.

"Phantom wounds are a mental trick," Edmund corrected. "Peter's injury is definitely real."

"My ankle's sprained too," Peter said nonchalantly, as if it wasn't a big deal or anything. "Though that one was even stranger. I hurt it while I was sitting down."

Okay, now things were getting _really _weird.

"There has to be a reason," Susan insisted, helping Edmund sit Peter down on a rock. "Logically, it's impossible."

You would think that after a couple trips to Narnia would kill that "logic" stuff, but some people really never change.

It may be completely irrational, but Edmund couldn't help but think it was Eustace's fault.

* * *

This was preposterous.

How could he, Eustace Clarence Scrubb, be stuck in this awful place with this awful lot? Someone was playing an awful prank on him. He made a mental note to find whatever idiot plotted against him and wring him by his neck.

There was no way he was staying with his cousin. No, Lucy acted like she was the one in charge, when she was only one year older than him—one! Who did she think she was, his mother? It was a bit hard to deceive the rat—err, _mouse_, but he was going to contact the authorities and get his cousins arrested on kidnapping charges. There had to be a station somewhere around here.

What was with this horrid place? Talking werewolves and bats and who-knows-what. The toads probably talked too. Maybe the mud was upset that he was walking on it.

That only made him stomp harder.

He finally found himself in a line of bushes or something. Perhaps there were some fascinating insects he could observe here. Hopefully they weren't weird or talked. But then again, he may be able to stand a talking bug. They would have an excellent collector's value.

As Eustace got on his hands and knees to search for bugs, he suddenly heard a high-pitched cry from the corner.

Eustace wasn't scared—merely _startled_, his ears were very sensitive—but he found himself shaking (from the cold, of course) and quaking in his boots.

"Who's there?" He asked in the strongest, most authoritative voice he could muster. "I am Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and you will tremble at the sound of my name!"

Eustace brandished a stick, ready to strike when a little boy stumbled out from behind the bushes.

Yes, you read that right. A little boy.

The child was teeny, couldn't be more than a baby, with golden blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was covered in dirt, with a massive cut from the boy's left elbow to his index figure. Poor thing was limping, too. Eustace almost pitied him.

Almost.

The most peculiar thing was the fact Eustace almost recognized the little boy from somewhere.

Eustace may know nothing about this so-called "Narnia", but even he knew this child was so much more than he seemed.

* * *

**A/N**

**And there we have it. Who do you think the little boy is? I had a lot of fun writing this chapter.**

**This isn't meant to take the exact journey of VoDT. I'll have some elements that are the same, but it's intended to be an entirely different story that just takes place in this time.**

**Forgive me if my little details aren't quite correct, it's been some time since I last watched a Narnia movie or read the books. I looked up what I felt was important.**

**This is a very busy time for me, I'm going to try to update this as fast as I can, but I am a pretty slow updater. If you're interested, feel free to PM me to remind me as I honestly just forget sometimes. xD**

**Please leave a review! It would greatly make my day. :)**

**I hope you enjoyed the story and I'll see you in the next chapter!**


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